


Summer Fruit

by onecent



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72
Collections: Winterhawk Wonderland





	Summer Fruit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allyouneedissleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyouneedissleep/gifts).



“Barnes? Is that you?”

Bucky looked up from the box lid he was designing at the large sunhat addressing him. It tilted back to reveal a familiar flash of red hair and a gleeful smirk. He nodded once and returned to his work. As though ignoring Natasha Romanoff had ever worked.

Three seconds later, something hit him in the ear and bounced off into the dirt. He sighed and glanced down at the small blueberry, then looked up to Natasha and the carton she was munching out of.

“Did you need something?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. Which was a strange thing, because in Bucky’s memory of her she always had an eyebrow raised, and one would think he should’ve grown immune to those sorts of looks by now, but no, it still managed to raise his hackles.

“Is that any way to treat a potential customer?” She looked over the small wooden boxes and figures laid out inside the booth. “Maybe I want to buy something.”

“Okay. Let me know when you see something you like.”

She hummed and lifted a purplewood box with a Celtic knot design around the lid. “So when did you get back into town?”

Bucky sighed through his nose. He carefully placed the wood burner in its holder and turned to face Natasha full on. He watched her face as he turned fully into view, his left sleeve empty below the shoulder. She didn’t look surprised to see it, but that wasn’t much of an indicator.

“Moved back this spring.”

“Funny. I haven’t seen you around.”

“I’ve been busy getting settled in.”

She hummed again. “Just you? Whatever happened to little Stevie?”

He stiffened and narrowed his eyes. How much did she already know and was just bringing up to make him uncomfortable, and how much was she really looking for answers? “He stayed in Brooklyn,” he finally settled on. “Said he felt more at home there.”

Natasha grinned. “Well, he did already finish beating up every bully in this area. Probably for the best he moved on to a bigger pond.”

“But not you?” Bucky found himself asking, despite his original intention not to extend the conversation.

“Some of us have wrongs to right a little closer to home. I’m content here.” She looked him up and down. “It’s a good town. A good place to rest.”

Bucky grunted and turned abruptly back to his work. “I guess.”

She picked up a few more pieces, turning them over in her hands before carefully replacing them exactly as they’d been laid out. Then she took what was left of her carton of blueberries and reached across the table to set it nearer to Bucky.

“It’s good to see you again. If you ever want to talk more, or if you just want some more blueberries, I’m down at the produce section of the market. Feel free to swing by. I may even give you a discount, if you ask nicely.”

Bucky waited until she had disappeared back into the small crowd perusing the market before reaching over to snag a blueberry for himself.

***

_ Who in their right mind went to an outdoor marketplace when it was 95 degrees outside? _ Bucky wondered as he looked out over the people browsing the stalls. He huddled deeper into the shadows of his booth and wished he had a fan to help circulate the air. He’d put away his wood burning tools for the day; as much as it helped him to be less anxious when he was working with his hands, he couldn’t stand any extra heat in the small space.

“You didn’t come by last week.”

Natasha was back, still wearing that ridiculously large sunhat, but this time with a basket of strawberries. She pulled down her oversized sunglasses to raise her eyebrow at him again.

Bucky just grunted. “And you’re not here to buy anything, so would you mind making room for people who are actually interested?”

She stuck her lip out in an exaggerated pout. “But I hardly take up any room. No one will even notice.”

“Not in that hat you don’t.” He tucked his hand in his pocket. “You’re going to scare away all my nice customers.”

“Me? I’m just a small, innocent fruit seller.”

Bucky snorted. “Try that on someone who didn’t know you in high school.” 

She grinned back at him wickedly. “Speaking of, I should be heading back to my booth. Come by when you get the chance. I’ll keep some peaches saved for you. Soft, golden, perfectly ripe and sweet. I’m over by the entrance. You’ll know the place when you see it.”

She was gone before Bucky could protest. He looked wearily into the crowd of people wandering under the blisteringly hot sun and decided that he didn’t need any peaches, not at the cost of having to go all the way out into the market to find them.

He held his resolution for two hours. 

Which, he told himself as he pulled a rope across his booth and started heading toward the entrance to the market, was a very good length of time to hold out against Natasha. 

He stayed to the outskirts of the crowd, largely moving with the flow of traffic as it looped around the circle of stalls. As they turned the corner and came across the rows of produce vendors, he kept his eyes peeled for Natasha’s red hair or large sunhat. He spotted a booth with rows of fruit and a sign out front that read “The Itsy Bitsy Farm,” with a picture of a spider in a web in the corner. Without bothering to hold back the eye roll, he beelined toward the booth.

As he neared, he finally spotted the familiar sunhat behind the booth, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. But then the person in the sunhat turned around, and stood up, and up, and...that was most definitely not Natasha.

Not-Natasha looked to be over six feet tall, with straw-blonde hair and skin that was going red in the sun despite the hat. His worn shirt might have once been purple, but was now a lavender-grey stretched thin over large muscles. He was smiling hugely, but still impossibly managed to smile wider when he looked at Bucky. 

“Hi there! What can I get for you?”

Bucky blinked. “Uh.” He looked around at the fruit. “Peaches,” he squeaked out.

“Sure thing! You wanna pick some out? Or I can put together a bag for ya.”

“No, that’s...it’s...Nat--Natasha said she would…”

The man’s eyes widened and he gave Bucky a quick look-over. His eyes were a very pretty shade of blue, and they looked lovely all crinkled up in a smile like that…

“Right, got it. She mentioned she was setting some aside for you. Hand-picked, so you know they’re the best.” The man turned and bent down to grab something. His jeans were faded, with a large hole in one of the back pockets. What had even made that hole? Had he gotten caught on something? He spun back around and Bucky forced his eyes back up.

Bucky reached for his wallet. “How much?”

“Well, I can give you the Natasha friends-and-family rate, which is two for a dollar.”

Bucky looked over at the sign posted for all the other customers, which also read that peaches were two for a dollar. “Or?” he asked.

“Or you can get the Clint Barton friends-and-family rate, which is free. But I can only give that to my friends and family.”

“Oh. Uh.”

Clint leaned forward and winked. “I’ll at least need to know your name for that.”

Bucky could feel the back of his neck growing warm. He needed to get out of this sun. “It’s uh, Bucky. Barnes.”

Clint blinked once, then held out the bag with a smile. “Well then, Bucky. Here’s to being friends.” As he passed over the peaches, he winked again. “I hope to see you again soon.”

Bucky took the fruit and walked slowly, confidently, and not at all awkwardly back to his booth, only looking over his shoulder at Clint a couple times.

***

“Oh.”

Natasha pushed back her sunhat and looked up at Bucky. “You sound disappointed, Barnes.” She finished bagging some nectarines and passed them over to one of the children of the family buying them before taking the money from the father.

“No, it’s...I just...is, um. Is Clint here today?”

Natasha gave him a knowing smile. “He had to work today. But I can tell him you asked after him.”

“No, no! That’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll just...I’ll see him next week. If he’s, I mean. If that’s.” A sudden thought crossed Bucky’s mind and he looked at Natasha in horror. “Are you two, uh. Are you dating?”

Her smile flipped from knowing to downright gleeful. “No, we aren’t. Clint remains woefully single and completely bisexual. In case you were wondering.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. That’s...good. I mean, it’s fine. To be bisexual. And single. And. Fine.”

“Indeed. So did you need anything?”

“Um.” Bucky crumpled up the small piece of paper in his pocket, the one with his phone number carefully written out. He scanned the rows of fruit. “Strawberries?”

Natasha picked out a carton of berries and bagged it while Bucky pulled out his money clip. He paid and took hold of the bag of fruit, but instead of letting go of the bag Natasha pulled him in close.

“If you break his heart, Barnes, I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she said. It wasn’t even particularly threatening, except that it was coming from Natasha. 

Bucky shivered and stepped back.

“He should be here again next week. Be sure to wear something nice.”

As she turned to help the next customers, Bucky ran back to the safety of his booth.

***

While looming rainclouds had been threatening to pour all day, in the meantime it was just another hot and muggy day with people filling up the marketplace again. Bucky had run through just about every reason he had to not take the time to swing by Natasha’s stall today, from worrying about the rain to dealing with customers to avoiding the crowds. But now, as things were beginning to wind down for the day, he was running out of excuses.

He stared down at the box lid in front of him. The outside latticework was done, and while he knew he wanted a design on the center he couldn’t figure out what to add.

“Hey.”

Bucky jerked in his seat, sending the box skittering across the table. He smacked his hand on top to keep it from falling off the edge. He looked over at Clint, who was standing at his booth looking panicked.

“Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, I just...wanted to come see you. I guess. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have bothered you.” 

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve been paying more attention.” Bucky moved the box to a safer location on the table. He stood and walked over to where Clint was staring down at a figurine. “It’s uh. It’s good to see you, actually. I’d meant to come by, but I just...didn’t. Have time.” He winced a little, but Clint didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, I get that. You must be busy. This is beautiful work.”

“Thanks.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Clint asked.

Bucky shrugged. “I started back when I was a kid. My grandpa liked to work with wood, and he helped me with a lot of projects. It was mostly just for fun, something to do in my free time. But then I…” He took a deep, ragged breath. “I joined the army after high school. And I uh, lost my arm during an op. So they sent me back home.”

“Hey.” Clint’s hand fell warm and heavy on Bucky’s right shoulder. “Deep breath.” He breathed in, beckoning for Bucky to breathe with him, and then out again. Bucky took another shuddering breath with him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s. It’s fine.” Bucky took one last deep breath. “That’s the worst of it, anyway. And I just. I wanted to let you know. You know.” He gestured at his missing left arm. “Anyway. When I got back home, I just….wanted to be somewhere quieter. So I moved back here, into my grandparents’ old place, and started making art again.”

“Well, it’s beautiful. Thank you for making it, and for sharing that with me.” Clint smiled warmly, and he finally let his hand slip away from Bucky’s shoulder. It felt a little cold in the absence.

“Thank you,” Bucky said.

Clint looked down again at the figurines. “I’m also gonna do some sharing, since it seems only fair.” He glanced up at Bucky. “You don’t seem to remember me, but I actually knew you from back in high school. You were two years ahead of me, I think, so you probably don’t remember. And I basically only hung out with Natasha for that first year, anyway. But I actually had a pretty big crush on you.”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “On me?”

“What, like it’s surprising that I’d end up having a crush on the hottest kid at school?” Clint argued. He crossed his arms across his chest, and Bucky took a brief moment to wonder at the strength of the seams in his shirt. “You and your perfectly done hair and your jacket, and then you had that smile--yeah, that one!”

Bucky’s smile turned into a small laugh. 

“Honestly I mostly figured that you and Steve were probably going to get married and have three kids and thirteen dogs and I was going to have to learn to be okay with that because you two were also the nicest people I’d ever met and had stood up to Brock that day when he tried to take my hearing aids--”

And that was a memory that Bucky just barely remembered. He’d come up in the middle of a fight between Steve and Brock, and had managed a few solid punches to send the jackass away before turning to see a kid in too-short jeans with a birds nest of hair wiping blood from his nose. 

“--so of course you deserved to be happy together,” Clint finished. “Which of course you still do, and I won’t bother you if you’re not interested, but when you came by the other week it kind of seemed like maybe you were, somehow.”

“Clint.”

“And I’m not always very good at reading things, but Natasha is pretty good, and she told me--”

“Clint!”

“--that I shouldn’t just give up without giving it--”

“ _ Clint! _ ’

“--huh?”

Bucky reached across the table and tangled his fingers with Clint’s. “Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

Clint’s responding smile was brighter than the sun.


End file.
